~ Growing Up & The Homecoming Dance ~

Well, last night my son Zack went to his Homecoming Dance. Here he is with his date, Bridgette. Talk about bittersweet ~ on one hand, I am a proud mom, on the other ~ it feels like I just went to my Homecoming dance. How can it be that I am the mother of teenagers when I still feel like I'm 17?

If called to testisfy, I would swear that I was in high school yesterday (or maybe last week). Isn't it ironic that time moves agonizingly slow when we're kids, but after we graduate we blink and twenty-plus years have passed?

Don't get me wrong ~ I'm not complaining at all. There are thousands of memories I have that I wouldn't trade for anything. There are thousands of mistakes I've made too. I wouldn't trade the mistakes either, because it's during the hardest moments in our life that we become better. I know it's cliche' and sounds corny, but cliche's become such for a reason.

To see more Homecoming photos, click on this blog's title.




This is Michael. He's my youngest son, and I believe my most daring. He races downhill mountain bikes and placed 5th in his age group at the National Finals last season.

When he was younger, he was closer to me than Zack was at the same age. When he was 9, he started to become his own person, with his own ideas about what clothes he wanted to wear, and I decided to take him to the mall so he could pick out his own clothes. After he made his selection, he wanted to change into his new clothes and walk around the mall for a bit. Realizing that he needed to feel some sort of independence, I offered to let him walk down one side of the mall and back while I waited on one of the benches near the center stores. His eyes lit up and I could tell he thought that was a great idea, but being ever thoughtful of my feelings (and perhaps not feeling so independent after all), Michael asked me if I could follow along a little behind him so he didn't feel so alone. I agreed, and so began Michael's journey towards independence. I had to laugh a couple times because Michael would forget that I "wasn't with him", and turn around every now and then to share something with me.

After we returned home later that evening, I couldn't talk Michael into changing into his pj's because he didn't want to take off his new clothes. Later, he fell asleep on the couch, and my husband carried him to bed - new clothes and all. As I watched my husband carry Michael down the hall, the words, "Little boy blue in grown up clothes, deciding who you'll be" came to me, and I wrote this:

~ Bittersweet ~
For my sons...

The face of an angel is your disquise
but there's worry in your angel eyes.
Like a well, your cares run deep.
What do you dream of when you sleep?

Feelings conflict when I watch you,
and I long for who you'll become.
But my heart is mourning the little you
when I was your only one.

Little boy blue in grown up clothes
deciding who you'll be.
Watching you create yourself
for me, is bittersweet.

You're still the child you used to be.
But I see you're more than that.
I have learned you're one of three ~
forward, now and back.

I never thought I'd walk behind,
or that you'd want me too ~
I always thought you're what I'd find
when I reached out to you.

My heart grieves at morning light
when you declare your autonomy.
That you'd be mine for such a short time
was something I'd never believe.

My job now is the hardest one ~
just give you room to grow;
and to be so thankful to God above
who let me love you so.

~ Jody ~